Having a nice lie in.
As a young man, I could sleep for England.
At bed by 11pm and not rise by 3pm the next day without pressing matters.
Not so much procrastination, more progressive relaxation.
These days - without prostate problems - I can’t get beyond 8.30am without some random rubbish niggling away at my thoughts and needing attention.
Having a nice lie in.
I have been more delusional than you
Increasing delusions of skill often seemed proportional to the number of beers imbibed during the day
Bars (pubs) that are full of scarcely clad young women that have more tattoos then clothes.
I only disapprove of the tatoos
That’s the thing they didn’t have that many tattoos, they just had less clothes. Mrs Pete thought it was funny as she said I didn’t know where to look.
And my god they where loud as well, we did find a quieter and more suitable pub.
The worst thing with tattoos is a string of words, as your mind automatically tries to read the phrase or sentence and the person becomes aware of your glare and looks disapprovingly - I mean if you didn’t want them seen cover them up! Similar for all those witty slogans/phrases on T-shirts which are quite often sited at ‘chest level’.
Of course tattoos are an art form, and there are many exquisite designs which can look impressive, but far too often on women I wonder why their natural beauty needed a distracting tattoo. Not my choice but theirs entirely but I guess it’s like any other attributes such as hair/eye colour one is attracted to without any real logical reason, it’s just in general I probably find women without tattoos more attractive.
Anyway, I’m hardly Adonis so I’m skating on thin ice especially in this day and age.
Other beverages are available. (Posted from a hotel bar in Southampton).
That doesn’t always help.
Once at the bar in the local stadium and fed up queuing for overpriced drinks in plastic glasses I asked for 8 pints of something (for me and mates).
“You can have a maximum of four pints” I was told.
I really didn’t want to queue again.
“Four pints of anything?” I asked. “Yes!”.
“OK, four pints of red wine please”. They actually served it.
One of the young women had her back completely exposed (don’t ask me how I gave up trying to work it out) she had a tattoo that started at the base of her neck and went all the way down to her bum crack. It was letters that started off largish and got smaller as they went down, which for me unfortunately just made me look harder to work out what it said. Think it was about then when Mrs Pete decided we’d go elsewhere.
Photos next time please
Yes, hard to imagine without the photos.
Let’s hope it wasn’t War and Peace!
Could it have been Joshua Ferris’s Then We Came to the End?
sounds like optometrist eye chart
Ok, time for @Pete_the_painter to come clean and tell us where we can get this bespoke eye test!
Well at least Mrs Pete stopped you before you needed to pull back the dress at ‘crack level’ to continue reading.
Pete never said that the young girl wasn’t mrs Pete.
Mike you really are trying to get me killed if not by a group of angry women, Mrs Pete.
No I think it said if you can read this your too fckn close.